Pleasant Nightmares
by Krystal Kerro Sky
Summary: Edited into chapters instead of one long page. Cornelius is out to find his mother, whether he wants too or not. Preface inside. PLEASE, oh my gawd, leave me a review if you read it!
1. Preface and Ch1

Pleasant Nightmares

Pleasant Nightmares

Preface: I hardly ever write an authors note, but I feel that I need to for this story. I know the issue with Lewis/Cornelius and his mother has probably been done to death, but might I convince you to suffer through one more? I swear this will be the best you will ever read of its kind. This story contains a few minimal Adult themes and sequences, so please, keep an open mind when reading this, and do not flame me for being mature in a _Disney_ story. Cornelius is an adult, and will act like it. I should also mention that this is mainly through his perspective, but written also from the point of view of the 'angel on his shoulder'. I went through several versions of how he might go about finding his mother before I settled on the three written here, so this story is thought out and planned (least to a degree). Please, also excuse any spelling errors, because I check, recheck, and triple check my writing before posting it, and anything that messes up is because of the document uploading process, and something getting skewed in the event. Enjoy! Oh, and don't forget the Mashed Potatoes! (Constructive Criticism welcomed)

OH! And much thanks to Bean15 (my oh-so-awesome Beta Reader) and her wonderful sufferings through this, and taking time from her busy schedule to read it and point out my errors and the parts she liked. And yes, Emily, Wilbur said 'hi' and then blew a razz at you for telling him to not play late-night Chargeball.

5-14-2008: to increase reviews… I have decided to make this story into split documents, and upload them as I feel like it.

Fiction

The lights where a soft blue within the interior of the machine, lighting up the long face and circle glasses of the man that sat there. He was watching the outside world, in sepia tones and rain falling from the sky. Checking his multi-chronographic watch, which he had created to automatically adjust to whatever time he found himself in, he saw that he still had a few minutes before the woman would be passing by his hiding place. After that, his younger self, Lewis at age 12, and Wilbur at age 13, would be waiting right in front of Sixth Street Orphanage. Then the woman would walk again past this same small park. Pulling the time-appropriate hat onto his head, smashing his hair down so it looked loose and long around his ears, he thought for a moment about what he was doing, then pressed the release for the overhead hatch. The lights cut off, and he grabbed the remote to get back in the machine afterwards. He had been waiting 32 years to summon the courage to go back to this night, where he was a few weeks old, 12, and now 44 all at once. He would see his mother, and learn more about her. He wanted to know, to finally learn about where he really came from.

Letting the hatch close, he pulled the leather long coat closed, shedding the rain as he stood beside the machine. There she was, hurrying past, a baby clutched in her arms. He couldn't, didn't, stop her now. He had to let her give the child up, otherwise his future would fall apart, and… '_If I stop her, will present-me, at 44, disappear, in order for another 'Lewis' to be 44 instead?_' He didn't want to screw up his chances for his younger self, for the life to be discovered and remembered. That was why he was doing this now, after his family was solid, where this wouldn't change what was going on for him in the present. As far as he knew, what he remembered, everything happens accordingly.

The exacts of time-travel were not known, except knowing that he was now, currently, in three places at once. There was no paradox of knowing of himself, of seeing himself, in the same place. It would have happened when he was 12—no, it would have happened tonight, if there was such thing as a time paradox that could destroy time and space. When he saw his younger self, it would have happened then… but here he was, 44 years after this day, and two paradoxical points later, and the world was still here. He leaned against the invisible slick metal of the Time Machine at his back, closing his eyes as the patter of rain hit his hat and the ground around him. He could stand in the rain forever, but he was here for a reason.

Pushing off the machine, he strode to the sidewalk, and looked down the street to Sixth Street Orphanage. There she was, and he could see his younger self, crouched in hiding, getting soaked. She was hurrying, with her head down, and feet clicking against the slick pavement. She was wearing heels, not the most sensible thing to be dressed in on a stormy night. He kept his head down, wanting to time this perfect, though if the street had been busy, it would have made perfect sense.

He started walking towards her, knowing, or assuming as the case may be, that she wasn't watching where she was going either. He tilted his head down and blocked his own vision. He kept his arms ready to catch her when she fell. Her clicking feet were sounding louder, closer, and he looked up just to see her collide with him. His arms were around her, keeping her from hitting the ground. "So sorry, miss." He apologized, but then heard her weeping, and she didn't move away. He looked up to the front door of the Orphanage, seeing the lights of the first Time Machine flicker and fly away, bubbling out with a lightning strike and thunder.

She clung to him, shaking. She was so thin, light, frail. He tried to be as much a stranger as possible, but he was having a hard time resisting the urge to hug this poor woman. "Miss?"

She looked up at him, her eyes red from crying, and a face so young, so sick-looking. It tugged his heart to realize that his mother was so young and weak… how did she ever manage to give birth? He knew it had taken a lot from Franny for Wilbur's entrance into the world. Her eyes were tawny gray, hair a faded blonde, all which he could see in the muted world of the past.

"Are you all right?" Cornelius kept his voice soft, face neutral.

She shook her head, shoulders shaking from a sob, and then she buried her face to his chest. He could just make out her words. "I just gave up my baby… it was him or my life… nothing I could do…" He finally gave in, and wrapped his arms around her.

"It's all right; he grows up to be a great person." He muttered, holding the frail teen against him. He had looked, far back in the past, when he was 19, as to what happened to his mother, but because no one ever knew her name, or what she looked like, or anything about her, his search fell short very quickly.

"H-how d'you know?" she sobbed, her fingers digging into his shirt.

He couldn't resist spilling the secret. "Because you're hugging him."

Her eyes shot up at his, blinking furiously. He could tell she didn't believe him. He expected her to deny it, to argue with him that he was bluffing, kidding her, making her think like a fool. He didn't expect her eyes to roll into her head and she to go completely limp in his arms. Her weight, dead weight, was more than he had been expecting, and it took a few moments for him to gather the strength to pick her up and take her to some shelter off the street and into a doorway.

Maybe saying that wasn't the best idea right then. She really had no idea who he was, and saying that she was hugging her son, who she had just left as a newborn on the stoop of an orphanage, was more than likely too much for her to handle right then. He leaned her against the brick wall, where they were both out of the rain. He wasn't going to leave her here, and because he was in the time machine coming here, he had all the time in the world to spend here, and still get home within the hour that he left. Heck, he could be back within five minutes after leaving, and no one would have any idea what had gone on with him, or how long he had truly been gone.

He sat next to her, keeping an arm around her as they sat. They could pass off as two lovers who had gotten drunk and sat within the first door they had come across. He tipped his hat to shade most of his face, making it hard to see him properly. Her hood kept herself hidden as well, and yet she leaned as if she was conscious, or just dozing off a late-night drink. He knew, from research alone, that this part of town was known for drunks and homeless, that if a police officer drove past, they wouldn't worry too much about them. In a few years, this would be a better place.

He felt his mother stir, using him to sit up straight. She looked around, finally spotting his shoes, and then sitting to look at him. Under the yellow light, she looked even sicker than she did before. "I'm… I'm not dreaming, am I? You really are…?"

He nodded. "My name is Cornelius; I'm from the year 2039. I'm 44 years old, with a wife and son, and a very large family. You left me, as a baby, in the care of Mildred Duffy, the caretaker of the 6th Street Orphanage. At the age of 12, in 2007, I was… will be, adopted by Lucille and Bud Robinson. I came back to now in a time machine."

She stared at him, mouth hanging open. He could see that she was actually missing a few teeth, and some were broken. A fight, perhaps? She wasn't as pretty as he had imagined, nor as well kept. This poor creature next to him was frayed and falling apart. He thought she might faint again, but she held on, looking away to stare at the far wall. "You… you don't look like anyone I know, though…" she finally muttered, looking back to him. "You look more like… my… my father."

Was there a shocking reality hidden under her words? Was there something so completely taboo going on that it should, in fact, scare him away from her? Was it just that her father's genes happened to dominate her own? He hoped her words were just that, words. There should be no underlying meaning, and he would force himself to accept that, for now. "Is that… a bad thing?"

Tear sprang into her eyes, as if she was about to spill a dark secret. "My father… forced…." She didn't finish before shattering into tears.

Cornelius knew, now, what he should never have found out. His blood went cold, and his heart skipped several beats. His fear came back up, Taboo. He took a deep breath, and held her close. No wonder why she had to give him up, she couldn't stand the thought of him, a product of abuse. Why couldn't he have just been content to leave this all alone? He was happy to not know this, and now… everything he created, the fiction of his mother, was shattered. This was the ugly, hideous truth behind it all. He should get up, and walk away from her, return to the delusion of his own mind, act like this never happened, that he would never know, never wanted to know, never needed to know. He should go home, and destroy the Time Machines; all the plans, the blue prints, the models, even the failures. He should have just left the past alone. He should have just never created them, none, never even started the work in the first place. "Hind sight is 20-20." He muttered. Yet the scientific part of his mind rejected all thoughts that what she said was true. If he truly was the product of incest, then there should be some sort of deformity. There was none. All the doctors he had been to, physicians mostly, said he was perfectly healthy, with nothing wrong. So logic pointed out that what she suggested was not true.

The woman looked up at him. "Wha-what?" He met her pain-filled gray eyes. He didn't even know her name.

"Sorry, there is nothing I can do to help you." He said, pulling his arm away from her, and using the wall to push himself up. He didn't want to look at her, but to just walk away. Perhaps he would destroy the Time Machines anyway.

She latched onto his arm. "No, wait, please, Cornelius… tell me more…" He looked down at her, so pathetic with her shallow face and sickly eyes. "Help me…"

He fought the urge to push her away, hating her, and that much was evident on his face, and by the feelings stirring deep in his gut. He fought for a bit longer, and then settled back to the ground. He could, at least, do what she requested. He had all the time he needed right now. "All right… what do you want to know?"

The storm clouds were floating away by the time he finished detailing to her his life, and his multi-chronographic watch beeped that it was sunrise. He still didn't know her name, but didn't really care, because another feeling had come over that she would be dead within the next few days, or even hours. With the new light coming through, he could see that she was bruised all over, her face bearing old and new spots, and that she wasn't fed, if at all. How did she manage to have such a healthy child? Something at the back of his mind also made the mention of drugs; that she was an addict of sorts, and the long night would wreak havoc with her later. At least, though, she knew that her son would have a great life ahead of him… From her, he managed to get his real birth date, and the name she called him by: Baby. He surmised that it was Mildred who got him properly in the system as Lewis, with a social security number and all that… This woman seemed far too incompetent to accomplish that much… or to even go to a hospital.

"My name… is Selena Matheson. Cornelius… could you; when you get back, see what happened to me?" She finally said, after a long time of silence as the clouds cleared into a bright blue (if slightly sepia-colored) sky. Saying that took much from her, and he couldn't help but feel pity for her. Her life would be cut so short. He couldn't, wouldn't, forget her, for as much as he wanted too, he should never forget her.

Once more with an arm around her, he felt her breathing slow, almost until she fell asleep. She was dying faster than he had expected… his mother dead at his side shortly thereafter. No wonder why she never came looking for him later on in his life, because she wasn't there.

Cornelius made sure her body was comfortable, leaning alone against the wall, before he stood up, looking down at the woman he would have hated to call 'mother'. Part of him spoke to call her a pitiful creature who was only thinking of herself and not of her child, of her blood. And yet part wanted to take pity on her, because she went though things he could never have imagined going through. He was happy she gave him up; to save him from that world she had chained herself to. She cared enough to do that much. He finally turned from the stoop and walked down to the side walk and back to the park where he left the Time Machine.

"I know what happened to you, Selena… you died." He muttered, pressing the button to open the hatch of the machine. He climbed in just as people started showing up for morning runs or walking their pets. No tears came as he thought of the woman, and their long conversation together in her last hours of life. But at least he knew more about himself back then than he ever thought possible… and some were thoughts that sickened him to the point of retching. But he held back from the act. He would stuff the truth away, and never dredge it back up again.

Starting the craft up, he angled it skyward and took off, leaving the clouds behind before tapping in the time he wanted to go to.

A week later found him walking into his office, carrying his briefcase. He rarely used his office, but he needed some time to think, away from family and other employees. No one disturbed him up here, either. He nodded to the woman who was his secretary; an older woman with white hair and black eyes hidden behind rimless glasses. She had been working for him since the company first launched from the ashes of Inventco. Loyal and quiet, he never had to worry about her. Pushing open the doors to his spacious-yet-crowded office, he weaved his way to his desk, where papers were stacked. They were not usual business related things, but scrap sheets of inventions from other people all over the office and the world. He would go through them, later.

Before sitting, he pulled an electronic notepad from his briefcase, and plugged it into his computer, letting the files transfer. Sitting back, he watched the screen flicker as the devices communicated. Grabbing a handful of papers, he paged through them, not really sorting or reading them. In the week since he got back from 1995 he hadn't picked up a single tool, not even a pencil. His mind was oddly blank and out of ideas as to what to create, and he could never force himself to make anything. His old notebooks were all finished, their ideas made and either in containment or in use all over the city. At least other people were still creating.

The computer beeped, and the holographic screen flickered, bringing up the updated files that were traded. "Open… search engine. Look-up Selena Matheson." The words came out before he could think or stop himself. The computer responded with a few muted beeps, and flickered. It pulled up a High School Graduation picture of Selena Matheson… but the girl showed wasn't the woman he met. This woman was younger, looking hardly 18… the bio provided said she graduated Valedictorian at the age of 15. She graduated early because of her high intelligence and amazing grades and knowledge. She had waiting scholarships to Harvard and Yale, and a few more elite but obscure schools. A small article that followed the Yearbook entry gave more: her IQ ranged near 250, which was unheard of in 1992. Who the hell, then, was the woman he met? He searched deeper, and found she never went to any secondary education, but disappeared into her home because her father was a drunk and abusive, and no one could save her. Last seen entering St. Bernard's Medical center, in labor.

She was never checked out by a parent or guardian, but disappeared from the hospital, with her baby several days later. Drug tests showed that she was clean, but before… she had been heavily intoxicated, and not of her own free will. The dates were slightly off what information he remembered, since she left him there about 2 weeks after she was at the hospital. She went home to her father, and then things went down hill from there. She was found dead several blocks from home, sitting on a stoop. The cause of death was heart failure.

Cornelius looked at the screen for a long while, and then sat forward, fingers flying over the keys. Looking up DNA records were challenging, as it wasn't a system even thought of then. It didn't arrive till late 2008, early '09. There was a slim margin, though, that even the deceased were tagged. He looked up her name, and came back with a green light, she was in the records. He pulled up his own, and sent a request to the hospital to have a match-test run, and to look for possible other matches. He wasn't about to give her father credit for anything.

"If you dig up the past, all you find is dirty." The quote played back in his mind from an old movie, 2003 was the air date. The name escaped him, but the words echoed and rebounded. He was willing to get his hands dirty, if only to settle his own heart and soul on the mater of his mother. He had sworn long ago he would never look her up, yet what did he do last week? What was he doing now? Why did he make the time machines in the first place, if not for this very purpose?

The hospital got back to him after several minutes, saying the test was underway. The Human Genome had been mapped some time ago; he wanted to say 2020, but that was just a rough guess. It had taken many years to do it, but at least that was one hurdle the human species was over, for now. He sat back once more, staring numbly at the screen, images of her flickering through his mind. Her last few hours of life, and then being there next to her as she faded. If he had tried, could he have saved her?

The phone beeped, the secretary coming over. "Mr. Robinson, your wife is on Line 1." He didn't give a reply, except snatch up the headset, and slip it into place, depressing the flashing button a moment later. "Franny?"

"Cornelius, the least you could have done was let me know you were going to the office today." The tone in her voice made him smile. The concern and agitation were one of the things he liked hearing… though he liked it even more when directed at Wilbur.

"Sorry, but I needed to get in early, and I have the entire Himalayan Mountains worth of papers to go through." He replied, casting blue eyes over the papers waiting to be looked at.

"It just seemed… strange, that you would go in now, when you weren't even in your lab at all this past week… where did you go, that day?" She was curious, still concerned for his well-being.

He turned in his chair, gazing out the windows. He had come back several hours later than he had intended to, making his absence noticed by all. It had been nearly 3 AM when he finally crawled to bed, waking her up in the process. "To see my mother… but I didn't find her."

"You are just as bad as Wilbur when he lies." The woman accused. And she was right. He wouldn't argue there.

"All right… I did find her, but she wasn't at all what I was expecting." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Franny, I watched her die. She had been a really smart woman; graduating high school at 15, Valedictorian, with scholarships to any college she wanted. But… something happened, and her life was stopped. I have to know what happened, honey, I need to know. I thought I didn't care, but I realize now that I do."

The other end of the line was silent, but he knew she was still there. "My real mother is dead… and right now, I'm seeing who my father is. I won't go seeking him out, though. Once I know, I'll let this be."

"Cornelius… why now? You could have looked for several years before this… so why now?" Franny seemed lost in her own thoughts right then, her voice soft.

"Because… because I was worried about what I might dredge up, what I would find. It took me until last week to go into the past, and we have had the Time Machines for nearly 5 years now."

Franny sighed audibly on the other end. "I'll give you this much credit: you are persistent and stubborn when it comes to research and answer-seeking. Just… let us, or at least me, know where and when you are going, so we don't worry about you." He knew it wasn't said that she wanted to know exactly what he was going to be doing when he got to when-ever. He was wrong to not inform her, and felt terrible for that.

He turned back to the screen, seeing if anything new had showed up. A family tree for the Matheson clan was highlighted. "I'll let you know from now on, don't worry." She knew he was as good as his word. He tapped a few buttons and transferred files to his notepad. "I still have a few things to do around the office today, but I will be home for dinner."

After their good-byes, he returned the headset to its cradle. It would be a few days before the hospital would get back to him with the match percent and any other viable—he blinked at the screen, seeing a waiting message. That was… unusually fast. He clicked the icon, letting the message load. He was shocked to see it was a video message, not only that, but a vid-chat invitation.

"Mr. Robinson, I'm Dr. Henry Zorander, head of the DNA Department at the Medical Center. I was shocked to see your request pass over my desk this morning… Do you mind if we chat about it for a bit?" Dr. Zorander was a young man, with brown hair and green eyes and half-moon glasses. The kind of man Cornelius would like talking to. He accepted the video chat invitation, looking to the camera that lifted itself from the pile of papers. He really needed a better system of getting these things.

"Dr. Zorander, Cornelius Robinson here…" The screen flickered as the still image updated to a living and moving Zorander.

"Ah, Thought you might have been busy, Mr. Robinson." The doctor settled back in his seat, setting a mug down. Coffee, perhaps?

Cornelius lifted a pile of papers. "The usual for me… and my unusual request of your lab."

"Yes, it is. You understand that Miss Matheson is, has been dead longer than you have been alive, right?" Henry leaned forward, hands clasped together in interest.

"I know, but I met her a week ago, back in 1995."

"Time Travel? Rumor has it you made a Time Machine, but I didn't think it was operational."

Cornelius nodded. "Both are. I just keep them well guarded to keep people from messing with their own lives… and that of others."

"Yet you went into the past to see your mother? How does that not mess up your life?" It was common knowledge that he was once an orphan.

"She never took me back from Ms. Duffy, never came to see me. My life is pretty well set right now; she's dead. The only thing I could have possibly done was at least tell her what will become of her son when he is older."

Henry seemed rather skeptic about his short tale. "And all you want is for my lab to confirm, and find out your real parents?"

"It's a loose end that I would like to see tied up."

Henry sighed. "There is no guarantee that your father is even in our system, or was from this area. If we can't find him here, then there is the request to access the national database—and even then, he might not be there either."

Cornelius thought about this for a moment, then nodded. "I know, and won't worry about it. If you can, extend your search through present-day. I have a time machine in production here at the factory, and there might be a possibility that someone went back…" As disturbing as those words were for him to say, he wanted to cover all bases.

"Remote possibility, I hope?" Zorander asked, typing away at something.

"I hope so too." Cornelius replied, shuffling a few papers absentmindedly. He pulled one out, looking it over without seeing it. "Dr. Zorander, what would you do if you were in my shoes?"

Henry looked up from his typing. "Mr. Robinson… I'm not a psychiatrist, but I can tell you I would feel pretty over whelmed. I wouldn't ponder it too long, and follow my own motto."

'Keep Moving Forward' flickered across his screen, though there was nothing there to make it display. "Once I have the answers, though…"

The screen went black suddenly, and he opened his eyes to the hazy view of his room, seeing it through eyes unaltered by his glasses. The air was heavy in his chest. Was it all just a dream? He sat up, feeling Franny's arm slide from his chest. He reached for his glasses, finding them where he always placed them for the last 17-18 years that he had slept in this room, in this bed. He slipped them on, seeing the moonlight filter from the overhead windows, lighting up the enormous room. He looked to the digital clock on the nightstand, seeing it was nearly 4 am, Wednesday. Did he really go into the past? Did he really talk with Henry Zorander? The harder he thought about it, the more like fiction it all felt. He grabbed his robe, sliding from the bed and pulling the warm fabric about his bare form. He had names, which were probably fictional… though Henry Zorander did ring a bell as part of the Medical Center Staff. But Selena Matheson?

Fiction, that is all she was, fiction. But maybe he would go back and find out the truth. It had all just been a dream, vivid, but a dream nonetheless. How many times could he mess with the past, or even… shaking his head, he padded to his lab, stopping outside Wilbur's door and peering in. The ChargeBall screen was flickering, the sound cut low, and the sleeping 15-year-old was curled on the bed, the controllers discarded to the floor, and a blanket pulled hap-hazardously into place. He would be amazed if Wilbur was really sleeping, or just faking it to make him think the kid hadn't been up late playing. He closed the door again, and set off down the corridor.

Mounting the steps into his lab, he glanced about the moon-lit inventions, all faintly glowing with whatever energy they possessed. He felt at home here, surrounded by things he could control. This atrium was his place, all his. He rarely brought anyone up here, save for Wilbur sneaking in. The air hummed, and it felt alive here, that everything was living and breathing. He took a moment to let the calm fill him, before walking to a computer desk tucked out of the way. The terminal lit up at his approach, the screen waiting for his voice-print password. He had too many sensitive things on here for just anyone to peek at. The security annoyed him, as it was also on his work computer—which gave perfect evidence that it had been a dream.

"Cornelius Robinson. Keep Moving Forward." He spoke to the screen, and got an ACCEPTED message in turn as the login screen faded into the main screen. Taking a seat, he let the keyboard lights activate, and the eye-cursor recognize him through the glasses.

"Web search, Selena Matheson. Person." He instructed, watching the screen flicker to obey. He glanced about the lab, the system beeping once to get his attention. NO MATCHES FOUND

Cornelius blinked, but figured he shouldn't be surprised. "Search MATHESON, noun." The screen flickered, coming back with Agatha Matheson, an actress in the movie he had watched the night before. She had played a character named Selena.

"New Search. Henry Zorander, Person." The computer beeped, showing exactly who he had spoken too in his dream. The man was indeed Head of the DNA Department at the Medical Center, and had attended a gala for all Robinson Employees and Partners. He searched a bit deeper, and found that he had a picture taken with Dr. Zorander.

He sat back with a sigh, realizing that he had found what he needed to, and that it had, indeed, been a dream last night. "If you dig up the past, all you find is dirty." He muttered. He still, though, wanted to know. He had a taste of what it might be like… but that was worst-case scenario, played out in a dream, a safe place. Now he needed to take the risk. He had to go into the past, and clear this up before the dream started repeating.


	2. Ch2

Back Before I Left

(Note: I will be up dating this weekly, every Wednesday, when I get paid from work. Thanks to Prozac Fairy and Fortuna for their reviews and calling me on some bad information (which is suppose to be incorrect for a reason). But I guess that happens when a story's really good, you mistake it for real-life... which the first chapter and this chapter should NOT be taken as real in any sense of the word!! thank you.)

Cornelius gently nudged Wilbur awake, waiting until the brown eyes were open and registered him. "Wake up, Will, we're going time traveling, and we need to be gone and back before your mother wakes up." Almost instantly, that woke the teen up.

"But, dad…" Wilbur mumbled, rubbing his eyes, even though he was awake. "What time is it? And why're we going?"

"It's five-fifteen in the morning, and I'll tell you later. Hurry and get dressed—pack a few extra changes of clothing and get to the garage." With that, Cornelius left his son's room, shoes heavy, and jeans a very strange weight on his waist. He had done more research, getting a sense for the fashion back in '95. He was dressed accordingly, knowing that Wilbur would be the same: kids always dressed alike, no matter the time. The long flaps of the leather jacket flared out at his steps, until he stopped next to Carl's recharge station. The batteries were full, and he tapped the robot awake before the timer went off.

The eyes lit up, and the robot seemed to blink, as if taking in the dress of his creator. "Sir, what is going on?"

"We are going traveling, and I need your help." He let the robot step from the station, and opened an attachment hatch on the back. "I'm installing a holographic projector, so you won't look like a robot, but like a person. It will also sound dampen your feet, and make it appear that you walk normally. I'll tell you and Wilbur later. Get to the garage and get Chrono2 running." He snapped the hatch shut, letting Carl reboot the new information before he headed off down the hall.

Wilbur was awake, Carl was making haste to the garage, and he needed to grab them some food, because he wasn't sure if they would be able to get anything while in 1995, being as he had no currency from then. Everything now-a-days was electronic credit and direct deposit. Everyone carried only an ID card, that card accessed their bank account. Wilbur had an account since before he was born, and the card was instantly tagged to him when he was born, so it never left his side until he understood the use of it.

The kitchen lit up when he stepped in, the giant room where Chef, their cooking robot, ruled over. Now that he was here, the door opened.

"Buenos Dias, Señor Robinson. Hungry?" Chef asked, a fake (very very fake) Hispanic accent. It ranged from day to day how the bot would speak, as it had a personality similar to Carl. Sometimes it changed depending on the time of day, and the origins of the meal. One, not even a Robinson, could ever predict what Chef would sound like next.

"I need rations for about a week, food that will keep hot or cold." Cornelius instructed, and the robot bustled to get to work, multiple arms extending, reaching, grabbing, and cutting.

"Anything in particular for the menu, señor?" Chef asked while working.

"Nope." He replied, going to a pantry and looking at the insta-soups. It was pull-the-cord-and-the-soup-would-be-hot-when-you-pulled-off-the-lid kind of thing from the Japanese, which were current contenders with his company. But they didn't have a time machine yet. Two arms snaked around him, grabbing a few insta-soups and then retracting. He watched them, seeing Chef loading a hot-cold box with what ever he was making.

"Just you and your son, correct, señor? I sensed him awake once you stepped in."

Cornelius nodded, closing the pantry doors. "Yes." The hot-cold box shut with a snap, and Chef delivered it to him.

"Take—" The kitchen door burst open, and another, very frazzled looking Cornelius, carrying a bleeding Wilbur, rushed in. The two men looked at each other; the new-comer shook his head. "Don't ask. You can't stop it either way."

Current Cornelius nodded, shocked, but took the box and left the kitchen while Chef sounded frantic at the bleeding teen. It happened, nothing could be done. He rushed to the garage, hoping that Wilbur had not seen himself. But they were back before they left… how was he going to explain Wilbur's injury to Franny? He would figure that out when they came back.

Entering the garage showed two blue time machines, but one looked faded, worn out. A faded Carl was hooking up the refueling lines, while his counterpart, Current Carl, was looking on in distress. Both turned at his entrance. The panic stricken Carl looked at him. "I saw… you… and now, you again… and…" Cornelius shoved the hot-cold box at his robot.

"Get in." was his stern order. When Carl complied, he turned to the faded, exhausted looking Carl. "Don't tell, but—"

"I know, I need to cloak myself and this thing when Wilbur comes in. He cant know at all what is going on." Carl replied in monotone, looking to his brighter self, who was watching with a mix of fear and shock. It seemed that this trip didn't go to well for them at all.

As if on cue to the travel tube humming, both the time machine and Carl vanished, leaving the current one in place. Wilbur landed, carrying a back pack and dressed for the time. Cornelius ushered him into the machine without a word, and climbed in himself. One last glance to where the other Carl was hidden and recharging, before he looked up as the overhead hatch opened and Chrono2 left the garage, closing the time loop there.

"Ok, where are we going, and why are you pale?" Wilbur asked, sitting upfront on the bench seat next to Cornelius, and Carl was in the back.

He looked to his son, and then to the time control, working out a few equations in his head before pressing the buttons. "1995, and… I'll explain that later." Was all he said as the bubble light flickered around them, and sent them hurdling back in time.


	3. Ch3

Not Again

(Note: Please, leave a review. It tells me that this is being read, which is what I really want to know. And now I'm gonna just update this when I feel like throwing the next chapter at you.)

He wasn't frantic, he wouldn't worry, Wilbur was all right, here and now. He would face the family's wrath when the time came, but now he would forget it. This was current, but he still couldn't help think about what had happened. They were now hovering on a roof-top, the one that belonged to Sixth Street Orphanage. The night was clear, and the radio he had said there was a severe thunderstorm expected later in the day, with the possibility to extend into the late night and maybe even into tomorrow. This was the night before and he wanted to get a feel for this place before letting Wilbur and Carl loose. They were exploring the rooftop, keeping quiet, and making comments about the movie posters that were plastered to the sides of the buildings.

He watched them, keeping an ear to the radio, but his mind kept drifting back to just before they left. He wanted to prevent it, but knew he couldn't. He needed to focus on the here-and-now, and what exactly they were going to do.

Lifting his gaze, he watched as Wilbur ventured to the edge of the building, looking down over the side, and Carl extending his neck to do the same. Both looked back at him, and their shoulders slumped. They had been plotting a get-away, it seemed. He waved them over, suddenly having an idea.

He climbed out of the time machine, feeling the familiar sense of a rooftop he hadn't felt in 32 years… and also wouldn't know until he was about 3, and could climb the stairs. "All right, we are going to head down to the ground. This isn't a pleasure trip, though. We're going to head to the St. Bernard's Medical Center on 8th, and get a feel for the apartment buildings around here as well. You need to both keep your ears open for anything… and watch people. Keep your guard up at all times, but also try and be relaxed."

Wilbur had to remark, it seemed, with: "You need to relax Dad, we have this all under control, chill." He didn't know if that cockiness would get the kid in trouble or not, but it suddenly made him more worried. He shot a glance to Carl, then back to Wilbur.

"This isn't a game, Wilbur, you can get hurt here, and we do not know the area all that well, nor the time. You two stick together, all right? And keep in touch." His kept his voice level, but apparently some of his fear leaked into his words, making Wilbur pause.

"Ok, what aren't you telling me? Both of you have been keeping quiet about something." Wilbur crossed his arms, looking like his mother when she wanted information, right the heck now.

Cornelius looked to Carl. Do they tell him, or don't they? Should they? Taking a deep breath, Cornelius placed a hand on his sons shoulder, forcing the young man's guard to drop instantly. "Wilbur, you end up hurt. When I was in the kitchen, I watched myself carry you in, injured. I don't think there is a way to stop it, as it does happen."

"So, if we come back before we left, then.. why didn't I see the other time machine? How did we get back?" Wilbur blurted, taking a step back as if it was Cornelius that hurt him.

"You weren't supposed to know… I thought.—"

"No, you didn't think Dad! You need to stop trying to keep me safe! I can protect myself!" Wilbur snapped, pulling away from him and taking several steps back. A few more would put him over the edge of the building. But otherwise, there wasn't much space to run to put distance between them.

"Wilbur, listen—"

"No!" the teen darted off, as fast as the lightning bolt he displayed proudly on his chest, and put the access door to the roof between them.

"Son, you can either help me, or stay in the time machine for the rest of the trip." Cornelius knew that when he said that, he was practically sealing his son's fate to be injured. He needed help, though. Him and Carl alone couldn't search this entire part of the city.

"Flip off, old man," came the tart reply.

"Are you acquiescing to help, then?" He called back, not moving an inch. Wilbur would have to take the steps to come back. "Or should I just leave you up here until it's time to go? I would rather have you with me, searching, than knowing you were sitting up here, being useless." If there was one thing, of many, which he knew of his son, was that the kid didn't like to be useless.

He heard a sigh from the darkness, and eventually Wilbur came back, shoulders slumped. "But… Dad… you said I would get hurt, and…"

"I know, but that isn't something that can be avoided right now. That is why I'm saying you need to keep your guard up, and don't pick any fights, unless they are unavoidable. Self Defense is what your skills are to be used for. Harming anyone here might have dire consequences in the future." Cornelius smiled, though it was slightly pained, simply because he knew at least part of what would happen. "Think of it as an adventure, a chance to learn and take risks."

Wilbur sighed. "Yeah, but there's no reset button or cheat codes." He mumbled, yet both Cornelius and Carl heard him.

"Life isn't a game." Cornelius replied, and pulled himself back up into the time machine. "But we have an advantage: we know the future, to an extent."

"Dad… why didn't you just come here on your own? Why did you drag me'n'Carl along for the ride?"

He thought about the question as the teen and robot climbed back in. Should he tell them about his fear, that this was just another dream, and wanted them both here as proof? But was this a dream? 'Am I dreaming?' he asked himself, looking to the star-studded sky. "I'll tell you that later…" He replied to Wilbur, thinking of a way to test his theory. If this was, indeed, a dream, then he should know the answer to the question he was going to ask Wilbur. "Will, what was your final score last night before you went to bed?" He thought of a number, 1755, as the answer.

Wilbur blinked. "One thousand, seven hundred and fifty-five. Why?"

Cornelius slammed his clenched fist into the dash, but hit a pillow instead. He was looking to a star-studded morning sky. His vision was blurry. Lacking glasses. He pushed himself up, looking to Franny's sleeping form. "Not again…"

(Note: leave a reveiw? please? thanks.)


	4. Ch4

This Must be Reality

This Must be Reality

He wouldn't sleep, and he wouldn't move from the bed, daring this dream to get the best of him. 'Wake up, Lewis, wake the frell up!' he repeated over and over, the chant keeping him in place. If it didn't wake him the first time, then this was surely the real world.

Franny coiled up to him, her bare form under the sheets, her head resting against his gut. He ran his fingers through her hair absentmindedly, taking deep breaths to remain here and solid. His dreams had been so vivid, creative and logic-strewn, that he wasn't sure if they had been real, or not. Yes, last night they had watched a movie with the actress Agatha Matheson, who was the character Selena. That was proof to kill the first dream… but what made the second one not real? Was it Wilbur being hurt, or the question, or just the simple facts that dotted it? And why now was he only giving any thought to his real mother? Did he have to find her? Was time messing itself up somehow?

He had to let this go, and let it go now. Yet things kept coming back, demanding he look at them. He wanted to reach for his notepad, to run a search for Dr. Zorander, to make sure that wasn't fiction as well. Everything just fit together so well, it was disturbing. How long could he go without sleep? Hadn't he heard of a medication for dreamless sleep? How was he going to tell dreams and reality apart?

He waited for Franny to wake up, smiling into her still sleep-drugged eyes. It seemed to take her a while to realize he was awake as well, before she was. "Morning, sweetheart." He greeted, letting her rise into a sitting position before giving her a kiss. It was real, so then this must be reality. He wrapped his arms around her, letting her fall back against him, her eyes not fully open. He didn't want to be alone right now.

"Morning…" she muttered into his chest, pulling the covers tighter around them. "What day is it?" she looked up at him, her hair falling loose and around her face and shoulders. She could style it into the cowlick with no effort, yet it took him all day to get the gel to hold if he wanted to try it… he gave up trying when he was 15.

Cornelius glanced to the clock, seeing it was Saturday, just after 8, with the sun just peeking over the east. Friday Nights were their movie nights. "Saturday." He replied, twirling his fingers into her hair and lifting the strands up.

"Did I fall asleep during the movie?" she asked, looking up at him, her brown eyes still sleepy.

"We both did, but you fell asleep first." He trailed fingers down her back as she curled closer to him.

"Did not…" she muttered, and pushed off him to sit up, the covers falling away from her naked, lithe and perfect figure. She was more awake now, as realization dawned on her music-infested mind. "How long have you been awake?"

"Since three-am." He replied. He didn't need his glasses to know that concern detailed her face. He never woke any earlier than 10 on the weekends, and she knew that too. "But I couldn't sleep."

"Were you dreaming again?" She asked, reaching for his glasses on the night stand, and slipping them on his nose.

He could see her clearer now, and nodded. "Yes… and… they…"

"You need to talk to Dr. Kliner again." Her voice was stern, awake and alert.

He wasn't supposed to be dreaming. Jacob Kliner was a Neurologist, and had flat-out told Cornelius that because he could use both sides of his brain simultaneously, and at nearly 80 capacity, that if he dreamt anything, it would feel real. He was such a creative and yet logical person that it was very dangerous, because if he kept dreaming, eventually the reality he knew would become just another dream, and the demand to 'wake up' couldn't be followed. The first vivid dream he had paved the way to the Time Machines, but from there, the dreams had gone down hill, and one morning he woke up screaming. That episode was kept between him and Franny. If the family knew, then there would be great concern, and things might be taken the wrong way. Dr. Kliner had prescribed a medicine then, that if he took it with water 5 hours before going to bed, it would be a dreamless sleep; fall asleep and then wake right up after the body was rested. He had taken it long enough to build a habit of dreamless nights, and those had persisted for several years, until last night.

"I'll call him on Monday." He assured her, but failed when she shook her head.

"He said to call anytime, if the dreaming ever came back. But if you want to wait till Monday... what are you going to do in the mean time?" Franny poked his chest, as if daring him to argue with her.

"I'll stay awake, keep busy—"

She imitated a buzzer. "Wrong answer. Last time you tried to stay awake, you nearly cut your hand off with the Ion Beam in your lab." Crawling over him, and laying across his lap, she grabbed the phone on his side of the bed, slipping the headset into place and looking at the number pad while scrolling through the phone book in it. She tapped a few buttons, and then sat back, glaring at him.

"Hi Janet, this is Franny Robinson. Is Jacob in? There is… Sure, I'll wait." Franny said to the phone.

He couldn't believe that he had to go back to talking to Kliner. But at least it was an end to the dreams. He reached for his notepad, but Franny stopped him, keeping the device pressed firmly to the nightstand with a few fingers.

"Hi Jacob, Franny Robinson here. They started again." He knew that Kliner would know what she meant. "He said he has been awake since three this morning, and I know we didn't fall asleep till sometime after eleven…. No, he didn't give me any details about what they were about, and frankly, I don't want to know. … sure." She pulled the headset off and clipped it to his ear.

"Cornelius… ask me a question and think of the answer you want to hear." Jacob asked, his voice intelligent and smooth. He knew the voice all to well.

He took a moment, thinking about what he knew about Jacob to form his question. "What is your daughter's name?" The answer he wanted was Lisa.

"Gretchen." Jacob replied.

"I'm awake." Cornelius muttered in relief. He could trust Dr. Kliner (though for as much as he didn't like talking to the man) to understand his comfort knowing he was in reality once more.

"Good. Can I see you at my office at noon? I'm going to get you back on the medication from a few years ago, since that seemed to work so well, and for so long. But I need to run a few tests… and I need to know what your dreams were about." The man sounded concerned, but also slightly distracted, as if writing something down at the same time he was talking.

Cornelius rubbed Franny's back, though that didn't seem to relax her like it normally did. "Sure, I'll see you at noon." The headset clicked, Jacob closing the line. He tenderly pealed the set off his ear, setting it back on the charging stand with the handset-number-pad.

Franny sat up, cupping his face in her slim hands. "Lewis, I'm scared for you."

He met her brown eyed gaze, knowing her fear. "I know… I'm scared for me too."


	5. Ch5

Kliner's Lab

(Note: I wish people would tell me why they aren't reading this...)

After dictating his dreams to a voice recorder for further analyzing when Kliner's full staff came in Monday, he was now having his head scanned, to see what damage might have been done. A specialized version of the Memory Scanner was placed here, one that, if the person thought hard enough, they could summon back their dreams, and it would be displayed. Jacob wanted to save him from reliving the dreams, and falling into them, forgetting reality in the process, so that machine wasn't used. All the while, though, while laying there with the machine buzzing over his head, he couldn't help but think about his real mother, which had been the focal point of both dreams.

Should he go back and try to really look for her? He had been so close when he was twelve, but he wanted this life, the family he had. He had an inkling that fate was playing a major part in this as well. The reason he hadn't started working on the Time Machines earlier was because of having to manage the ashes of Inventco and pave the way for Robinson Industries. And take care of the family, and--

"Cornelius, please stop thinking." Dr. Kliner intoned over the PA. "You're disrupting the scans."

He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, forcing his mind to think of white and black, the two colors shifting back and forth. It was what he was supposed to be doing for this scan. White circles to a black field, then black to white. Rolling white hills and a black sky with white bird-things. Black creatures on a white field.

"Cornelius, please shut your brain up. Only two more minutes to go."

He took another breath, and let it out, trying to calm his mind long enough—

"There." The bed pulled away from the machine, letting him sit up, and return his glasses back into place. Jacob walked in, a slim man with graying hair and square, horn-rimmed glasses on a crooked and broken-bent nose. "Ok, I just have a few questions: What were you thinking about?"

Looking the doctor over once for any sign of concern for his health, but the man was a world-class poker player. "First off, my real mother and why she was the focal point in both dreams."

Jacob nodded, jotting it down on his own electronic notepad. "Leave that for my team to work out."

"Then about why I had a late start with the time Machines… I never did finish the thought." Cornelius said thoughtfully.

"Finish it now, out-loud."

Shutting his eyes, he grabbed at the thought that was hanging there, incomplete. "The reason I hadn't started working on the Time Machines earlier was because I had to manage the ashes of Inventco, and pave the way for Robinson Industries. That and manage my family. What if the first vivid dream had been a reminder that I need to get started on it? I first saw them when I was 12, and knew I would start working on them when I was 37. But in the following 25 years, I had pushed it to the back burner, paving the way for other inventions." He opened his eyes, looking at Kliner. Had he told the man about his time traveling adventure when he was 12, and first met his family-that-is?

"You time traveled before you built the machines?" Jacob asked, staring in disbelief. Apparently not.

"Yeah." Cornelius replied, and told Jacob about the events that took place back then. By the end of the story, Jacob was smiling.

"Your son said he was a Time Cop from the future? Sounds just like Wilbur to me." The doctor made a few more notes on his notepad, and then sighed. "You think your mind was telling you to get to work on the Time Machine, then? That probably also opened the flood gates for the rest of the vivid dreams back then as well."

Cornelius nodded, clenching and unclenching his hands on the bed. The doctor seemed thoughtful for a bit, and then sighed in turn. Yet the inventor couldn't settle his suddenly rampant mind, remembering and thinking about the past, and how he, the older self, had instructed his younger self that the future was not set in stone. Memories proclaimed otherwise, as he had, indeed, gone to the future. He had done his best to push it out of his mind, yet the event two years ago—it took him a few moments to clear his thoughts to listen to Jacob.

"Cornelius, I think you should follow through on what your dreams told you, go back and find your mother. Get whatever information you need, and then get back here. I'm still going to prescribe the wonder-drug you took a few years ago, so you can at least sleep at night."

"Thanks, Jacob." Cornelius replied, getting to his feet.


	6. Ch6

That One

Franny didn't like his plan at all. She believed that he should at least take Carl with him, if only incase something went wrong, and he needed to get back quickly. This wasn't like their excursions out of town, where they could get hurt in the wider world, this was going back into the past, where things were a great deal scarier closer to home. He assured her that he wouldn't be gone long, and he would come back with all his limbs still attached, and his head still on correctly (though Bud joked that it would be a great deal better if he came back with his head on backwards). He had to assure the family as a whole that he would be back before they even noticed he was gone. They all, however, wanted to know what time he would be leaving, and when he planned on being back. He replied that he didn't know.

It was late, Franny was in bed, watching him get dressed in the proper fashion for 1995, with baggier pants, heavier shoes, and more layers. The final pieces were a long leather coat (which had been prevalent in both dreams) and a wide brimmed hat that literally flattened his hair. He looked to her with a nervous smile, feeling just as awkward as if he was dressed as a duck.

"You wont even notice I'm gone, Franny, just get some sleep, I'll be back before you wake up." He tried once more, but the look she gave him, with her arms crossed over silk-covered skin; said she still didn't approve. Sometimes it was a curse to know his wife as well as he did. He thought about giving her a long and lasting kiss, just to try and cover up, but he knew that would just make her furious, even more than she currently was.

"What if something happens? What if—"

"I'll handle that when it comes up. Don't worry. I'll keep a med-kit on me just in case." Even that admittance still wasn't enough. "Hon, I need to get going. The sooner I'm gone, the sooner I'm back, all right?"

Her face softened, relenting to knowing she lost the fight by not saying anything, hoping her glaring would be enough to persuade him to remain with her. He gave her a parting kiss in turn, feeling a wrench in his heart at the thought of being parted from her for longer than he wanted to be. Even being gone for two days on business was tough on him. But here he was, going 44 years into the past. He slipped from the room, gliding down the dark and empty corridor. He had to get used to walking in flat-soled shoes, which he could have sworn were duck-feet.

Turning a corner, he came face-to-face with himself, dressed exactly the same, but with band-aids on his cheek, forehead and chin. About to ask, the other held a finger to his lips, and moved on back down the hall. He turned and watched, letting a smile play across his face. For Franny's sake, he was glad that he wasn't gone for more than 5 minutes.

Knowing that he had to hurry to close this time-lapse loop, he ran for the Travel tube at the end of this hall, and programmed it for the Garage. Stepping in, it was the familiar sucking sensation before he was deposited in the zero-gee space created for landing at the end of the trip. Once on his feet, he walked to the time machine, having to figure out which one—a sign on one pointed to the other. That one was written in his neat scrawl on a piece of old cardboard. Knowing himself, he just chuckled and pulled himself into the cockpit and started it up. The hum and vibration was familiar, relaxing as he released the docking locks. He rose into the air higher than the other, and the upper hatch opened up, revealing the star-studded sky draw close the faster he rose. A few buttons pressed, and the bubble formed as he increased speed and blinked from 2039.


	7. Ch7

Mother, Father

It was raining, just like the first dream. He couldn't find a park, and the alleyways were too small. The streets were decently busy, so that wrote off landing in an intersection. He didn't want to land on a building, because there was no guarantee that he could get to the ground from there. He checked the time, and according to what Mildred had told him long ago, it had been very, very late when she awoke to a knocking on the door. His watch displayed 10pm. He had time, right? He wanted to land where he still had a clear view of the orphanage, because he wanted to also judge how long Wilbur and his younger self were here.

He found a parking ramp several blocks away, however, and figured that would have to do. Setting the anti-gravity landing gears for concrete, he let the craft drop to just a few inches from the surface. He slid down the side, the hatch closing behind him once his shoes hit the ground. Rain poured down his back where his neck was exposed, sending chills down as well. He started for the stairs, assured that no cars would be coming up here anymore tonight, since no one would want to walk in the rain. Only the absolutely crazy people would. He must certainly be one of them.

The stairwell was dry and warm, making quick work to reach the ground floor, and reluctant to head back out into the rain. He headed towards the orphanage now, trying to figure how he should approach this as a whole. Should he come right out and say who he was, or just watch and wait? He knew that he didn't stop her, because at the age of 12 he had been close to getting her attention yet didn't. Baby Lewis had to enter Mildred's care, and Lewis-at-12 needed to work things out for himself regarding the situation.

Now he was Lewis-at-44, walking slick streets that he knew well while growing up at Sixth Street Orphanage. But he didn't know what to expect in his birth-year. Tucked into his coat was two tasers, with a recharging holster attached to his lower back. He had a sick-stick; something one of his other employees had tested on three subjects, making them retch when struck. It was effective; stopping someone cold in their tracks to bring up whatever was in their stomach. He didn't like the item, but it might prove useful here. He didn't like weapons, period.

He was across the street from the orphanage now, and crouched into a doorway, hidden completely in shadow. There was a hum, and lights floated from nowhere, twin beams lighting up buildings before landing and cutting off. Wilbur and Lewis-at-12, he remembered, and then looked off to his left, watching a woman turn a corner, headed this way. She was cautious, watching everywhere that she could, the baby held close, protectively. He saw the outline of a man at the corner, also watching her. The rain obscured any details from this far away.

Cornelius watched her, just as intently as he watched her before, sitting in the back of the second time machine. 'Mom.' He mouthed when she came into the light of the orphanage stoop. Careful steps up, checking the address. He looked to where Wilbur had parked, seeing the hatch silently slide open, and his younger self climb out, quietly making his way towards the woman. Up the steps, reaching, pausing, and taking back the hand. 'I want that future' he remembered thinking right then. He had thought Wilbur would disappear if he touched her, that everything that had happened to him would suddenly be undone. Stepping away, letting her go. Backing up down steps he had run up so many times, his foot slipped, nearly fell, but caught himself to scurry back into hiding as she left the baby, turned, and made her way back down the stairs, never looking the other way, and rushing back to the corner.

Now he stood, and made his way down the other side of the street, as quietly as possible, as inconspicuous as he could be. The man had moved farther into her line of vision, but Lewis-at-12 never noticed. At 44, he did now. His father? Had to be, the woman was almost running into his arms.

She was still a few blocks away, and the alley in front of Cornelius emptied of three men in short jackets and baseball caps. They were about to run across the street, but he reacted first, the two tasers in hand, aimed, and released at the closest two. They fell, and their buddy turned to see what happened. Dark eyes fell on him, and the man rushed. There was no time to grab the sick-stick; the man was huge, and slammed into him, throwing them both to the pavement. His mind and vision swam, disorientated.

Everything spun, and pain blossomed from his face. Were the other two up? Was this his fatal mistake? There was another shout in the distance, attention distracted, and the weight was suddenly gone. A cry of pain, glass breaking, small hands grabbing his arm and urging him to get up, move.

It took a moment for him to get his body to respond, but he was up, feeling his glasses just about to fall off. He pushed them back up, in time to watch his savior to take on the three monsters without so much as getting hit. The man was fast, lightning so, and took down the three after a few either chance or well-planned moves.

The woman let out a loud sigh of relief, and the man stood triumphant with the three down. Without a word, he motioned for them to follow him, and the small crowd of three set off down the street, the rain having drowned out all noise otherwise.

Several blocks later, their entered an apartment building, letting Cornelius get a good look at the man, who was fiddling with a key ring to unlock the main door. His hair was soaked, but under the light shown blue-black. His face was long, but hard-lined. He might think the man was the embodiment of masculinity, when the man turned to him and smiled. He could have sworn he saw Wilbur peeking out from those blue eyes. This WAS his father.

Once into the vestibule of the building, the woman pushed her hood aside, light-blonde hair pulled back. She was cute, reminding him much of his younger self. They said not a word as they entered the main lobby, and over to a bank of elevators. Once inside, the man pushed the button for the top floor, and then leaned against the wall, and the woman curled up next to him.

"Thanks." Cornelius said, to cut the silence that fell between them. The man's only response was a finger to his lips. 'Speak later' the gesture seemed to say.

The cart dinged when they reached the floor, the doors opening and they headed out, walking down a small corridor towards the far right. Stopping at a door marked 1023, the man pulled another key from a pocket tucked deep into his coat. The tag on this key had a family picture that couldn't have been taken more than a few days ago, because Cornelius just noticed a baby included in it.

The door opened, and the lights flicked on once the man's hand found the switch. Suddenly this place felt familiar, that it was home, his first home. Aside from being bare of many furnishings, there was the tell-tale sign that there had been a baby living here, from the bag of diapers next to the sofa, to a few toys scattered about, and a crib set near a window. There was a TV set on a few milk crates, with a small selection of VHS movies and a player on top of the TV. An easy-chair was next to the sofa, and a hall lead off to a bedroom and bathroom.

The main door closed with a snap, and she set the locks; what sounded like several of them that were in-side only. He looked to her, but her husband put a hand to his shoulder, and motioned for him to sit on the sofa.

"Ok, now we can talk." The man's voice was rough, as if he didn't trust many people. "Who are you, and why did you rescue Jane from those men?"

The woman, Jane, made a scoffing sound. "Alex—" She flung a towel at the man, who caught it without looking.

"My name is Cornelius Robinson, and I did what anyone should have done." He spoke, tipping his hat back a bit. He noticed a crack in his glasses, but it wasn't that bad.

"Anyone? Most people don't follow someone who left a child on a door step, who had been watching them from the moment they turned on to the street. Yes, I saw you, crouching in a doorway. I also saw the young boy who nearly—"

Jane gasped, as if the dark-haired man had struck her. "There was someone there, then?! Who? I thought I heard feet, but I wasn't sure, I didn't see anyone—"

"Jane!" Alex responded, looking at her, toweling his hair. As it dried, Cornelius could see that it was just like his, electrified straight up. "Yes, there was a boy there, and he disappeared just as fast, but it doesn't matter. What matters is—"

"That Cornelius is injured because he tried to save me." She snapped back. Apparently there was a disagreement here, and he didn't understand it right now.

Cornelius touched his forehead, coming back with a bloody hand. Jane didn't waste time, though, and had a first-aid kit.

"Sure did a bang-up job of it." Alex muttered, shrugging his jacket off. Jane had done the same, and neither seemed to care that their guest hadn't followed suit. "Cornelius…"

"The child you left at Sixth Street Orphanage… why did you give him up?" He asked before he could stop himself, but felt Jane tense and hold back a sob. His own blue eyes were locked onto the matching orbs of his fathers.

"Because the kid would have died anyway… We saved him from a life of pain and fear. Our enemy would have used him against us." Alex replied with darkness settling in behind his gaze. "We couldn't have that… his life is too precious to be thrown away by the likes of us. We… can't get him involved with our war."

None if it made sense to Cornelius, but he would go with it. "Do… do you ever plan to go back for him?"

"If we do, that as good as kills him." Alex replied, arms crossed as he had turned his gaze out the blind-covered window. "Why are you so curious?"

Jane had put the last band-aid on his chin, and sat back, blinking furiously as if she recognized something. He didn't blame her; up close, he probably looked a lot like Alex.

Reaching up, he pulled his hat off, his hair almost instantly springing back into its normal straight-up style, with a little help from running his fingers through it. "Because I had to know where I came from."

Jane bit back a gasp, rushing into Alex's arms. Time seemed to slow at that point. "Lewis is only a few weeks old, so how the hell—" The man started to say.

"I'm from the year 2039. I'm 44 years old, with a family of my own." Cornelius informed them. "Tonight, when you dropped baby Lewis off, not only was I watching from across the street, but I was also 12 years old, wanting to meet you. But I had just gotten back from a trip into the year 2037, where I saw myself…"

Both sank to the floor, as if what he was telling them was beyond their comprehension, that it was damnation to listen. Taking a breath, Cornelius continued to explain to them his life, what they needed to hear happens to their child. If they were not going to have a part in his life, then he should at least tell them the life he will have.

"So…" Alex started, glancing about the room as though to gather the words he wanted to speak. "In the future, everything is better than it is now?" there was a tug to an underlying question, but all Cornelius could do was nod.

"Yes, thanks to me, in part. Whatever 'war' you are part of, doesn't exist, or never reaches public eye." He answered, hat on his knee, and a hand on his hat.

"Then we still win it. You are proof of that." Alex replied, keeping a protective arm around Jane, who was now looking to her grown-up son with admiration.

"Not necessarily. The future can still be altered, depending on your choices. Had I gotten Jane's attention a while ago, how would the future I know now be different? I know that my past is solid, but after tonight, I do have a fear that when I go back, something might be different, that this conversation alters something, and all I have is ashes, or that I don't exist at all, and then… what then? You, though, need to Keep Moving Forward, no matter what you have learned tonight. Your actions aren't alone in bringing it about. It takes everyone to make the future possible, not just the inventions of a single man." The words rolled from his tongue, making him realize that this was what they needed to hear, that they were supposed to know this. This certainly wasn't a dream, yet the feeling was similar.

Alex nodded. "Lewis… I think that no matter what, the time that you know is set, that it won't change, because it's your memories that hold it in place." He looked to his wife, who had calmed down, and wasn't about to say anything. "We won't go looking for you, this will be the first and last time you ever see us."

He had a feeling that they would be leaving town in the morning, once the rain was clear, and travel was safer. "And I won't look you up." He promised, slipping his hat back on.

The fare-wells were short, and he was walking back down the corridor again, head hung, but not from defeat. At least now he understood more about them, though exact reasoning was of no real interest for him. He didn't want to worry about their 'war' as it never affected him. He had his answers, as Jacob had told him to get, and now he was returning home; back into the rain, down the streets, to the parking garage, back into the Time Machine, and into the stormy sky.


	8. Ch8

Home Again

He landed the Time Machine with as much grace as ever, settling it next to its current-time counterpart. He rummage around for some cardboard and a marker, writing That one and the arrow, pointing to the other machine from the one he landed. With that done, he headed for the travel tube, remembering that he had to program it again for the level he wanted. They worked one-way at a time, having to be reset with destination every time they were used, and if someone didn't know how to use them, or just wasn't careful enough, they might end up somewhere they didn't want to go

Landing in the other end of the dark corridor, he pulled his hat off, rolling it up and sticking it in his coat pocket, heading down the hall. He wanted to get some sleep, curl up with Franny and let the world pass him by for a day or two. It wasn't depression, but just the weight of things that he learned about himself and his real parents. He was glad for Bud and Lucille, happy that he called them Mom and Dad during his teenage years, happy that they supported and loved him no matter what came at them. They would never abandon him, least not until they were ready to depart this mortal coil.

Just as he rounded the corner, he came face to face with himself. Holding a finger to his lips, he shook his head, and then moved around him, towards the far door. He pushed it open, light glowing over his face, Franny was still sitting in bed with her own notepad, typing away on the screen keyboard. She looked up, seeing him.

"Didn't you just…" She didn't finish, confusion written all over her face.

He shrugged, sliding from the leather jacket, the heavy-soled shoes, the several layers of shirts, the jean pants. "Yeah, but you forget, I have a time machine, I can be back when ever I want, and you would never be the wiser." He crawled on the bed towards her, and curled up beside her. "Ask me tomorrow how it went… I need to get some sleep."

Franny ran her fingers through his hair, her notepad aside. "Dreamless, I'm sure?"

Cornelius smiled, feeling her peel off his glasses and set them aside. He could think of no one that he would ever spend his life with and enjoy it the same way that he did with Franny. He knew the relationship Alex and Jane had; it was just the same as his and Franny's, though fear was there in Alex's and it was just as strong as love. "Of course." He certainly had nothing to fear now that he was home again.

The End

Note: Now, because I got lazy and decided to be nice, and threw the rest of this up all at once, be a good little kid and go back and review. I would very much like honest opinions of each chapter.. Tell me what you hate about it, preferably. I NEED reviews to get better... unless you are awesome like Lady (Mrs. Wilbur Robinson) and think I'm already awesome. thanks for reading!!


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